BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


No.  CLXXX 

MAY,  1865. 


PUBLISHED   BY 

HARPER    &,  BROTHERS, 

FRANKLIN  SQUARE,  NEW  YORK. 


VOLUME  30.  )         £7/yr/)/?r'c     l^/tn<rnviwp          \  NEW  YORK 

NUMBER  180.  tldrjier  S     IViagaZlHe.  I     MAYj  I865< 


WASHOE  REVISITED.—  (First  Pa/jgr.)  ..............................................................    68 

ILLUSTRATIONS.—  Night-Scene  in  the  Sierras  __  The  Silver  Mania  at  San  Francisco  —  Dirty  Mike  —  De- 
parture from  Folsom.—  Rather  Dusty.—  Gold  Dust.—  A  General  Smash.—  Old  Charlie.—  Dangerous  Boulders. 
—Scene  in  the  Sierra  Nevada  __  Job.—  Point  of  Rocks,  Lake  Tahoe.—  Station  on  the  Washoe  Road. 

CHILDLESS  ....................................................................................................    CO 

LYMAN  BEECHER  .........................................................................................    G9 

ILLUSTRATIONS.—  Lyman  Beechar,  1803,  Aged  28  —The  Old  Beecher  House,  New  Haven  —  Lot  Benton'a 
House  —Yale  College,  1793.—  Castle  Ward.—  East  Hampton  Church.—  Beecher's  House  nt  East  Hampton. 
—Beecher's  House  at  Litchfield.—  Hanover  Church,  Boston.—  Beecher's  Residence  at  Walnut  Hills.—  Ly- 
man Beecher,  1855,  Aged  SO. 

HEROIC  DEEDS  OF  HEROIC  MEN.—  VI.  THE  CHANGE  OF  BASE  .................    71 

ILLUSTRATIONS.—  George  B.  M'Clellan.—  Map  of  the  Vicinity  of  Richmond  —  Robert  E.  Lee.—  Battle  of 
Gaines's  Mill  __  Daniel  Bntterfield.  —  A  Cavalry  Charge  —  Fair  Oak  Station.  —  Savage's  Station.  —  Edwin  V. 
Sumner  __  The  Retreat.—  Destruction  of  the  Train. 

OVER  THE  MEADOW  ....................................................................................  7S 

THE  HOUSES  WE  LIVE  IN  ..................  ?.  .......................................................  7c 

ST.  LEON'S  HEIR  ...........................................................................................  .  7-1 

INFANCY  AND  AGE  .......................................................................................  7i 

RECOLLECTIONS  OF  THOMAS  ......................................................................    U 

With  a  Portrait. 

ON  THE  HEIGHTS  .........................................................................................    11 

ARMADALE.     By  WILKIE  COLLINS  ....................................................................    7( 

CHAPTER  III.  The  Claims  of  Society. 
CHAPTER  IV.  The  March  of  Events. 
ILLUSTRATION.—  Allan's  Neighbor. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  OXFORD  ...............................................................  .  .....    1\ 

OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND.     By  CHARLES  DICKENS  ................................................    li 

CHAPTER  V.  The  Golden  Dustman  falls  into  bad  Company. 

CHAPTER  VI.  The  Golden  Dustman  falls  into  worse  Company. 

CHAPTER  VII.  The  Friendly  Move  takes  up  a  strong  Position. 

ILLUSTRATIONS.  —  Trying-On  for  the  Dolls'  Dress-Maker.  —  Rogue  Riderhood  himself  again. 


THE  OLD  LETTER 71 

MONTHLY  RECORD  OF  CURRENT  EVENTS 8( 

Sherman's  Marcli — The  First  Division Obstacles  overcome Plan  of  the  Movement. — Capture  of  Co- 
lumbia— Communication  opened  with  Schofield — Actions  at  Aikin,  Fayetteville,  Averysborough,  and 
Bentonsville.— Schofield's  March  from  Newbern. — Battle  of  Kinston Occupation  of  Goldsborough Sher- 
idan's Operations  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shenandoah.— Battle  at  Waynesborotigh Destruction  of  the  James 

River  Canal. — Junction  with  Grant. — Lee's  Attack  on  Fort  Steadman Its  Object  and  Failure. — Grant's 

Movements.— Battles  of  March  30  to  April  1.— Movement  upon  Petersburg.— Evacuation  of  the  City.— Oc- 
cupation of  Richmond. — Lee's  Retreat — The  Confederate  Congress. — Davis's  Extra  Messnge.—  Response 
of  the  Senate — The  Gold  Bill — The  Negro  Enlistment  Bill.— Hunter's  Speech.— Governor  Vance's  Appeal. 

— Execution  of  Kennedy — Burning  of  the  General  Lyon. — The  Behring's  Strait  Telegraph Surviving 

Revolutionary  Soldiers. — Failure  of  the  Canadian  Confederation. 

LITERARY  NOTICES 8( 

Napoleon's  History  ofCsesar — Vambery's  Travels  in  Central  Asia Gillmore's  Siege  of  Charleston — 

Hulley's  Ordnance  and  Armor.— Thackeray's  Vanity  Fair.— Praed's  Poems.— Doi  an' s  Annals  of  the  Stage. 
— Life  of  Mendelssohn. — March's  Method  of  Philological  Study Hooker's  Mineralogy  and  Geology.— Bur- 
ton's Culture  of  the  Observing  Faculties.— Stone's  Life  of  Sir  William  Johnson.— Christian's  Mistake — 
Thoreau's  Cape  Cod.— Jaques's  Croquet.— Tony  Butler Uncle  Silas Luttrell  of  Arran. 

EDITOR'S  EASY  CHAIR 8( 

Sherman's  March. — Our  Annies  in  '61  and  'G5 Peace  through  War. Dickens's  Dolls'  Dress-Maker 

Dickens  as  an  Artist — The  French  Emperor's  Life  of  Caesar. — Lamartine,  Louis  Bonaparte,  and  Cavnignac. 

— The  Philosophy  of  the  Emperor's  History Jean  Leon  Gerome  and  his  Pictures. — Old  Stock  and  the 

Easy  Chair. 

EDITOR'S  DRAWER. 81 

Van  G.  demurs.— Organizing  the  Pennsylvania  Senate.— The  late  Ross.— Gay  and  Tolland.—  Midship- 
man Farragut. — A  Rogerene  legally  Married — Two  Epitaphs. — Shooting  Horse-Shoes. — A  Pastoral — Or- 
namenting Boots. — A  Contraband  on  the  Opera A  Bohemian  Application. The  Court  ready  to  Grind. 

— Reducing  the  Indebtedness. — Bob's  Prayer. — Laying  a  Land  Wan-ant. — Ecclesiastical  Anecdotes. — Sore 

Eticns  Embrane — Oaths  on  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw — An  Officer  of  the  Colored  Infantry Dromios  in  the 

Army — Mr.  and  Mrs.  W — A  very  Light-Draught  Steamer.— My  Father  Land.  — Detecting  Counterfeits. 

— Sharpening  Wits. — Proof  of  having  a  Wife P.  D.  Casey,  Esq. — Grave-Yard  reserved.— John  Bull  on 

the  Rhine. 


\ 


HARPER'S 

MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


No.  CLXXX-MAY,  1865,— VOL  XXX. 

WASHOE   REVISITED. 

[jfitst 


'"3 


NIGHT-SCENE  IN   TUB   SIERRAS. 


FOUR  years  ago  a  series  of  papers  appeared 
in  this  Magazine  descriptive  of  a  visit  to 
Waslioe,  in  which  the  author  related  some  per- 
sonal experiences  of  a  very  remarkable  charac- 
ter. So  wonderful,  indeed,  were  many  of  his 
adventures,  that  certain  incredulous  persons, 
who  have  no  difficulty  in  believing  any  thing 
except  the  truth,  boldly  assumed  that  the  entire 


narrative  was  a  fiction  concocted  for  speculative 
purposes. 

The  simple  truth  was  that  the  author,  an 
ex-Government  official,  found  himself  one  fine 
morning  in  San  Francisco,  with  only  an  empty 
purse  in  his  pocket,  and  saw  no  remedy  but  to 
visit  the  newly-discovered  silver  regions,  which 
were  then  making  a  prodigious  stir  among  the 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by  Harper  and  Brothers,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Dia- 
trict  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 
VOL.  XXX.— No.  180.— Z  z 


682 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


i,  I 


THE   SILVER  MA^IA   AT   SAN   FBANCISCO. 


gunny-bags  of  Front  Street, 'and  the  bummers, 
bankers,  and  other  men  of  enterprising  genius 
on  Montgomery  Street.  Aided  by  a  commission 
to  explore  some  mines  which  had  no  existence 
in  this  world  or  the  next,  he  felt  assured  that 
he  could,  by  means  of  an  agency  and  his  own 
speculative  talent,  speedily  indemnify  himself 
for  the  unprofitable  years  which  he  had  spent 
in  the  public  service.  In  this  hopeful  state  of 
mind  he  set  forth  on  his  travels.  Unable  to 
procure  a  conveyance  at  Placerville  short  of  all 
the  money  he  possessed  or  could  hope  to  obtain 
by  borrowing,  he  sturdily  shouldered  his  blank- 
ets, and  footed  it  over  the  mountains — through 
mud,  and  snow,  and  rain,  slush,  and  scathing 
storms — to  the  city  of  Carson,  where  he  arrived 
in  due  time,  somewhat  battered  and  wayworn 
by  the  hardships  of  the  trip.  It  is  not  my  in- 
tention to  review  in  detail  the  wonderful  expe- 
riences of  this  adventurer  in  the  land  of  silver. 
They  will  all  be  found  in  his  published  narra- 
tive, illustrated  by  authentic  wood-cuts.  Suf- 
ficient is  it  for  my  purpose  to  say  that  before 
writing  his  account  of  Washoe,  and  the  perils 
and  vicissitudes  of  life  in  that  region,  he  deemed 
it  prudent  to  retire  to  the  continent  of  Europe. 
The  dreary  years  of  his  exile  from  California  he 
tilled  up,  in  some  measure,  by  tours  through 
Spain,  Algeria,  Germany,  Poland,  and  the  re- 
gions bordering  on  the  Arctic  Circle. 

On  his  return  to  San  Francisco  he  found,  to 
his  astonishment,  that  the  silver  mania  had 
taken  possession  of  the  entire  population,  with- 
out distinction  of  age  or  sex.  Washoe  and  the 


regions  beyond  had  pprung  up  into  a  second 
California.  Gold  was  nowhere  now :  it  was  all 
silver — above,  below,  every  where.  Speculation 
peered  into  the  silvery  heavens  in  search  of  new 
leads ;  nay,  the  genius  of  enterprise  pointed  to- 
ward the  regions  of  everlasting  woe  as  an  appro- 
priate sphere  for  the  smelting  interests.  Tons 
of  ore  were  piled  in  heaps  along  the  curb-stones 
in  the  streets ;  every  office  was  an  emporium  for 
the  purchase  and  sale  of  feet ;  every  desk  in 
every  store  was  a  stall  at  which  millionaires 
browsed  upon  paper ;  every  window  glared  and 
dazzled  the  sight  with  gorgeous  engravings  of 
stocks  ;  every  man  of  the  hundreds  and  tens  of 
hundreds  that  stood  at  every  corner,  and  in  ev- 
ery saloon,  and  before  every  bar,  carried  feet  in 
his  pockets  and  dividends  in  his  eyes ;  and  every 
walking  thing,  save  horses  and  dogs  and  rats 
and  mice,  talked  stocks  and  feet  from  morning 
till  night,  and  dreamed  dividends  from  night 
till  morning.  Young  ladies  would  hear  of  no 
proposition  from  any  gentleman  with  less  than 
a  thousand  feet;  and  no  gentleman,  however 
ardent,  would  compromise  himself  without  ask- 
ing, "Is  she  on  the  Wild-Cat  or  Legitimate? 
How  many  pay  feet  does  she  offer  ?  and  what 
assessments  are  due  on  her  ?"  Passing  a  crowd, 
"Reese  River"  was  poured  into  one  ear,  and 
"Humboldt"  into  the  other.  "Washoe!"  "  Es- 
meralda!"  "Arizona!"  "Sonora!"  "  Struck  it 
rich!"  "Silver  bricks!"  and  "Pay  rock!" 
hummed  and  drummed  through  the  air  till  the 
brain  was  nearly  addled. 

No  wonder  our  adventurer,  just  from  the  wilds 


WASHOE  REVISITED. 


of  Russia  and  Iceland,  was  bewildered.  Of  the 
various  tongues  spoken  by  the  various  races  of 
the  earth  whom  he  had  encountered  in  his  trav- 
els this  was  the  most  difficult  to  comprehend, 
and  the  most  foreign  to  his  ear  and  understand- 
ing. The  very  newspapers  which  he  attempted 
to  read  furnished  snatches  of  information  that 
filled  him  with  amazement:  "  Uncle  Sanv'  was 
lively  ;  "  Yellow  Jacket"  was  scarcely  so  firm, 
owing  to  a  difficulty  with  the  Union  ;  "Lady 
Bryant"  was  in  better  repute,  at  advanced  rates, 
and  was  still  in  active  demand  ;  "  The  Savage" 
was  <juiet  but  strong,  at  rising  figures ;  "  Buck- 
eye" was  languishing;  "Hope"  had  revived, 
and  sales  were  made  yesterday  at  $8;  "Jose- 
phine" was  firmer  at  the  close,  and  much  sought 
for  ;  "Wide  West"  was  drooping  and  heavy  at 
880 ;  "  Burning  Moscow"  was  unusually  brisk ; 
and  "Sierra  Nevada"  had  a  downward  tend- 
ency. 

How  in  the  world  was  any  sane  man  to  com- 
prehend the  state  of  things  when  the  meaning 
of  terms  was  changed,  and  the  order  of  nomen- 
clature wholly  disarranged  ?  A  few  days,  how- 
over,  enabled  our  adventurer  to  catch  some  drift 
from  the  general  current  of  conversation.  It 
was  evident  that  fortunes  of  extraordinary  di- 
mensions were  to  be  made  over  the  mountains — 
made  suddenly,  certainly,  and  without  capital, 
which  was  precisely  the  most  convenient  thing 
in  the  world  for  a  man  who  had  just  scattered 
his  means  all  over  the  world.  "  Yes !"  said  he, 
enthusiastically,  "I'll  go  to  Washoe !  I'll  pitch 
in  for  feet  this  time !  You  bet  I'll  seize  a  few 
of  those  glittering  bricks,  and  build  my  castles 
upon  a  solid  foundation  hereafter ! " 

It  was  quietly  hinted,  however,  by  friends 
solicitous  of  his  welfare,  that  he  had  better  not 
show  himself  in  Washoe  again,  if  he  placed 
any  value  upon  his  life  or  the  general  stability 
of  his  constitution.  The  reasons  assigned  for 
this  advice  were  startling  and  multifarious.  It 
was  alleged  that  the  road  was  lined  with  blood- 
thirsty men  armed  with  pistols,  double-barreled 
shot-guns,  clubs,  pitchforks,  bowie-knives,  and 
axes,  every  one  of  whom  was  on  the  look-out  for 
a  solitary  pedestrian  who  had  passed  over  the 
mountains  three  years  before,  ,  and  damaged 
their  reputation  by  various  slanders  in  the  pub- 
lic prints.  Especial  mention  was  made  of  a 
ferocious  Irishman,  by  the  name  of  "  Dirty 
Mike,"  who  was  watching  near  the  crossing  of 
the  American  River,  with  a  tremendous  shillelah 
in  his  right  hand  and  a  copy  of  Harper's  Maga- 
zine in  his  left ;  and  it  was  asserted  that  if  the 
said  Michael  ever  laid  eyes  upon  the  author  of 
the  Washoe  papers  he  would  speedily  show  which 
of  the  two  carried  upon  his  person  the  greater 
share  of  his  mother  earth. 

Further  on,  in  Hope  Valley,  there  was  a  soli- 
tary man  who  lived,  like  Diogenes  in  his  tub, 
having  only  a  ferocious  bull-dog  as  a  companion. 
These  two — Diogenes  and  his  dog — had  been 
chiefly  occupied  during  the  past  three  years  in 
gloating  over  the  anticipated  reappearance  of 
"the  fellow  that  showed  them  up  in  print."  The 


DIRTY  MIKE. 

slur  upon  the  cabin  might  be  forgiven ;  but  that 
villainous  likeness  of  "him  and  Bull"  was  only 
to  be  wiped  out  by  blood.  Yes — he'd  offer  that 
fellow  fox-skins  to  eat  again — he  would.  You 
bet  he'd  settle  with  him.  Ef  he  didn't  you  could 
discount  the  bill  at  your  own  price ! 

Bad  as  all  this  was,  it  was  nothing  to  com- 
pare with  the  hints  of  retribution  that  came 
floating  over  the  Sierras  from  Virginia  City,  the 
Devil's  Gate,  and  Carson.  Here  were  some 
thousands  of  excited  men,  accustomed  to  the 
use  of  fire-arms  from  infancy,  who  had  invested 
largely  in  the  Love's  Delight,  Sorrowful  Coun- 
tenance, Pious  Wretch,  Literary  Cuss,  and  oth- 
er valuable  claims  of  a  kindred  character — all 
awaiting,  with  stern  resolution  and  ill-suppressed 
rage,  the  coming  of  this  diabolical  quill-driver, 
wrho  had  so  basely  ruined  their  mines  and  blast- 
ed all  their  prospects.  Many  thousands  of  peo- 
ple had  no  other  idea  of  Washoe  than  what  they 
gathered  from  these  ridiculous  caricatures,  which 
were  a  monstrous  fabrication  from  beginning  to 
end.  The  tide  of  capital  from  the  Atlantic 
States  was  arrested  before  it  ever  got  a  start 
from  Wall  Street.  Capitalists  in  San  Francisco 
were  scared  out  of  their  boots.  Stocks  in  the 
most  valuable  leads  went  down  a  thousand  per 
cent.  It  may  have  been  a  very  good  joke  to 
perpetrate  upon  the  honest  miners,  but  it  cer- 
tainly gave  a  back-set  to  Washoe  of  more  than 
two  "years.  And  now  it  was  hinted  that  this 
rattle-brained  scribbler,  this  miserable  ink-jerk- 
er,  was  about  to  become  a  candidate  for  Con- 
gress from  the  Territory  of  Nevada !  Let  him 
beware  of  the  vengeance  of  an  outraged  public  ! 


684: 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


He  had  better  give  Carson,  and  Silver  City,  and 
the  Devil's  Gate,  and  Virginia  a  wide  berth  in 
his  future  travels ! 

Such  were  a  few  of  the  grave  considerations 
under  which  I  surveyed  the  prospect  of  revisiting 
Washoe — for  you  must  have  already  discovered, 
dear  reader,  that  the  writer  of  these  sketches  is 
no  other  than  the  disreputable  personage  above 
referred  to.  Held  accountable  by  divers  and  ex- 
asperated bodies  of  men  for  all  the  disasters  that 
had  occurred  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountains 
during  the  past  three  years,  and  credited  by  none 
of  the  fortunes  made,  it  was  due  to  the  great 
cause  of  justice  that  I  should  go  over  and  set 
myself  right,  or  gloriously  die  in  the  attempt. 

With  this  much  in  the  way  of  introduction,  I 
shall  proceed  to  give  you  a  detailed  narrative  of 
my  experiences,  in  the  course  of  which  it  will  be 
seen  that  various  and  magical  changes  have 
taken  place  in  the  mining  regions  of  Washoe. 
Indeed  when  I  look  back  at  what  Virginia  City 
was  at  the  time  of  my  first  visit — a  city  of  sage- 
bushes,  mud  hovels,  coyote-holes,  gunny-bags, 
flour-sacks,  and  tattered  blankets,  wherein  dwelt 
a  population  the  most  motley  and  incongruous 
ever  gathered  together  by  the  force  of  silver  and 
circumstances — when  I  think  of  the  multifarious 
ledges  then  in  the  progress  of  development,  and 
see  what  has  since  been  done,  and  what  prom- 
ise there  is  in  the  future,  I  feel  precisely  as  Lord 
Clive  did  at  the  bar  of  the  British  Parliament — 
astonished  at  my  own  moderation.  The  mar- 
vel of  it  is  that  I  carried  away  so  little  treasure 
where  thei'e  was  so  much  staring  me  in  the  face. 
I  wonder  how  it  was  I  ever  told  half  so,  much 
truth,  and  left  so  heavy  a  balance  still  to  be  told. 

In  announcing  to  certain  experienced  friends 
my  purpose  of  revisiting  Washoe  I  was  some- 
what startled  by  such  questions  as  these:  Is 
your  neck  insured  by  a  responsible  company? 
Are  you  subject  to  giddiness  in  the  head? 
How  often  have  your  ribs  been  broken  before  ? 
Are  you  accustomed  to  fractures  of  the  legs  and 
arms  ?  And  what  provision  have  you  made  for 
the  maintenance  of  your  family  in  case  a  mis- 
cellaneous bullet  should  strike  you  through  the 
bowels  and  lodge  in  your  back-bone?  Which 
I  understood  to  mean,  in  general  terms,  that  a 
certain  per-centage  of  travelers  who  went  over 
the  grade  did  so  head-foremost,  with  a  stage  or 
two  on  top  of  them,1  and  that  the  state  of  society 
in  Virginia  City  had  not  improved  in  a  moral 
point  of  view. 

I  was  about  to  hire  a  private  vehicle,  when, 
fortunately,  I  met  a  friend  who  had  just  come 
over  by  the  Henness  Pass.  This  gentleman  trav- 
eled in  a  buggy  for  comfort  and  convenience. 
At  a  narrow  pass  on  the  way  he  had  encount- 
ered a  stage,  and  to  avoid  being  run  over  had 
turned  out  of  the  grade,  but  never  stopped  turn- 
ing till  himself  and  his  buggy,  and  the  horses 
that  pulled  the  buggy,  together  with  all  his  provi- 
sions, blankets,  deeds,  mortgages,  lists  of  mines, 
rolls  of  assessments,  and  schedules  of  dividends 
were  piled  in  a  confused  heap  at  the  bottom  of 
a  caiion  some  five  hundred  feet  deep  by  several 


thousand  feet  wide.  I  say  this  was  a  fortunate 
occurrence,  as  it  afforded  me  good  ground  for 
traveling  by  the  ordinary  modes  of  conveyance, 
which  I  have  generally  found  to  be  about  as 
safe  as  any  other. 

Of  the  trip  to  Sacramento  it  is  needless  to  say 
much.  Most  people  in  San  Francisco  have  tried 
that  at  least  once  or  twice  in  their  lives.  If  ever 
they  derived  any  pleasure  from  it  they  accom- 
plished more  than  I  did.  Two  hours  in  a  chill- 
ing wind,  during  which  you  partake  of  a  hasty 
dinner  and  smoke  a  cigar,  finds  you  at  the  Be- 
nicia  wharf,  the  steamer  fretting  and  fuming 
with  suppressed  steam,  crowds  pouring  in  and 
crowds  moving  out,  and  a  great  many  people 
gathered  about  the  premises,  without  any  os- 
tensible occupation  save  to  be  on  hand  in  case 
something  should  turn  up.  When  there  hap- 
pens to  be  no  opposition  on  the  line  you  may 
escape  collision  or  explosion ;  but  your  chances 
are  very  small  indeed  of  ever  reaching  your  des- 
tination in  the  event  of  a  rival  steamer  being 
on  the  route.  In  this  country  it  is  a  common 
practice  to  fight  duels  with  steamboats.  Diffi- 
culties between  captains  are  settled  by  steam. 
The  boilers  are  charged  to  the  bursting  point, 
and  the  hostile  parties,  accustomed  to  the  use 
of  steamboats  from  infancy,  manage  their  weap- 
ons with  such  skill  that  an  effective  crash,  ac- 
companied by  the  shrieks  of  maimed  and  scald- 
ed passengers,  is  the  usual  result. 

Upon  entering  the  Sacramento  River  the  air 
becomes  softer  and  warmer,  and  good-natured 
travelers  who  have  been  up  and  down  a  great 
many  times  point  out  the  trees  in  which  fami- 
lies of  women  and  children  lodged  a  few  years 
ago  when  the  flood  swept  away  the  houses.  But 
many  houses  still  remain,  although  the  effects 
of  the  flood  are  visible  all  along  the  banks  of 
the  river. 

About  midnight  the  steamer,  if  she  be  well 
freighted,  as  is  generally  the  case,  runs  aground 
on  the  Hog's  Back,  and  there  sticks  fast  till  morn- 
ing. Passengers  who  have  secured  rooms  and 
berths  usually  avail  themselves  of  the  opportuni- 
ty thus  afforded  to  lay  in  a  supply  of  sleep  for  the 
journey  across  the  mountains ;  and  passengers 
who  can  not  procure  rooms  or  berths  enjoy  the 
privilege  of  sitting  up  in  chairs  carefully  secured 
to  the  floors,  as  a  precaution  against  theft ;  or 
spending  the  night  in  the  lower  saloon  at  a 
game  of  sledge  or  poker,  by  which  means  they 
usually  travel  with  heavy  heads  and  light  pock- 
ets the  next  day.  The  Hog's  Back  is  responsi- 
ble for  a  vast  deal  of  trouble.  I  have  seen  many 
hogs  in  my  day,  but  never  so  great  a  bore  as  this. 

Arrived  at  length  in  Sacramento,  a  hasty 
breakfast  of  water  bewitched  and  coffee  be- 
grudged, leathery  beef-steak  and  saleratus  slight- 
ly corrected  with  flour,  refreshes  the  inner  man ; 
trunks  and  knapsacks  are  vindictively  hurled 
into  the  baggage-car  of  the  Folsom  train ;  the 
whistle  blows ;  the  passengers  rush  frantically 
into  the  cars  and  bestow  themselves  on  the  seats 
without  regard  to  order;  and  the  locomotive 
frets  and  fizzes  on  its  iron  wav  to  Folsom. 


WASHOE  REVISITED. 


685 


I  could  not  perceive  that  much  improvement 
had  taken  place  on  the  route,  unless,  indeed,  a 
few  additional  bar-rooms  be  accounted  in  that 
light.  The  town  of  Folsom  itself  has  grown 
somewhat  within  the  past  four  years,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  trade  passing  through  it  on  the 
way  to  Washoe.  New  brick  houses  have  been 
built  on  the  main  street  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
depot,  and  some  pleasant  little  cottages,  em- 
bowered in  flowers  and  shrubbery,  adorn  the 
surrounding  slopes.  The  chief  marts  of  busi- 
ness, as  usual  in  these  inland  towns,  are  the  ex- 
press-offices, clothing-stores,  and  drinking-sa- 
loons.  Every  other  house  seems  to  be  a  house 
of  entertainment,  in  which  the  public  are  feasted 
on  billiards  and  whisky.  Teaming  and  staging- 
are  the  grand  features  of  enterprise  in  this  lively 
little  place,  and  teamsters  and  stage-drivers  the 
most  prominent  public  characters.  The  lan- 
guage spoken  by  this  class  of  the  population  is 
a  mixture  of  horse,  mule,  and  ox,  with  a  strong 
human  infusion  of  blasphemy.  Something  per- 
haps in  the  difficulties  and  vexations  that  beset 
their  occupation  gives  them  rather  a  ferocious 
expression  of  countenance,  and  it  is  not  always 
an  easy  matter  to  mollify  the  asperities  of  their 
nature. 

As  most  passengers  desire  to  get  an  outside 
seat,  except  when  it  rains,  it  is  highly  import- 
ant that  you  should  proceed  at  once  to  secure 
the  favorable  consideration  of  the  superintend- 
ent, who  is  a  gentleman  of  great  suavity  and 
politeness,  considering  his  position.  Should 
you  fail  in  that,  I  warn  you  not  to  climb  up  on 
the  fore-wheel  with  any  hope  of  getting  the  seat 
of  honor  alongside  the  driver ;  for  whether  you 
be  a  Munster  plenipotentiary  or  a  member  of  the 
Common  Council  he  will  exercise  the  right  per- 
taining to  his  craft — order  you  down,  and  then 
enjoy  your  discomfiture  for  a  distance  of  ten 
miles.  I  have  seen  respectable  men  cling  to 
the  front  railing  of  stages,  with  their  feet  uneas- 
ily balanced  on  the  fore- wheels,  for  over  half  an 
hour — men  worth  probably  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars in  stocks — and  then  seen  them  fail — utter- 


ly, miserably,  and  ingloriously  fail — to  get  a 
seat.  I  have  seen  drivers  of  stages  laugh  and 
chuckle  by  the  hour  with  some  sympathizing 
chum  picked  up  at  the  last  moment ;  and  I  have 
heard  these  despotic  men  say  they  had  a  good 
notion  to  let  every  body  ride  on  top,  for  then 
the  stage  would  be  pretty  certain  to  capsize  and 
break  a  few  legs  and  arms.  Why  stage-drivers, 
who  are  paid  a  liberal  stipend  per  month  for 
putting  passengers  over  the  public  highways, 
should  be  so  vindictively  hostile  to  the  traveling 
community  surpasses  my  comprehension. 

The  scene  on  the  arrival  of  the  cars  is  quite 
inspiring.  Stages  backed  up  in  a  long  row; 
prancing  horses  in  front ;  swearing  and  sweat- 
ing porters,  baggage-masters,  drivers,  and  pas- 
sengers all  about  and  behind  ;  John  Chinamen, 
with  long  tails  rolled  up  on  the  backs  of  their 
heads,  running  distractedly  through  the  crowd 
in  search  of  their  lost  bundles ;  anxious  ladies, 
prolific  in  crinoline  and  gorgeous  in  silks  and 
satins  (the  California  traveling  costume),  fret- 
ting and  scolding  over  crushed  bandboxes ;  and 
stern-looking  men  of  an  official  cast  of  counte- 
nance shouting,  fiercely,  ' '  This  way,  gents ! 
'Ere's  the  place  for  your  baggage !  Bring  it 
along  if  you  want  it  weighed  ;  if  you  don't,  it 
won't  go — that's  all!"  And  there  is  the  ma- 
chine that  weighs,  and  there  stands  the  inex- 
orable gentleman  that  marks  off  the  weights — 
ten,  forty,  sixty,  ninety  pounds  per  passenger — 
thirty  pounds  allowed ;  all  extra  baggage  twen- 
ty-five cents  per  pound.  "Fifteen  dollars  for 
you,  Sir."  "Twenty-five  for  you,  Sir."  "For- 
ty-six for  you,  Madam. "  "  Seventy-five  for  you, 
Miss — heavy  trunk  that,  Miss."  "Oh  dear! 
oh  goodness  gracious !  must  I  pay  seventy-five 
dollars  for  my  trunk  ?"  "Yes,  Miss — sorry  for 
it — no  getting  over  it."  "Oh!"  "Quick,  if 
you  please,  ladies  and  gents!  Stages  behind 
time — won't  get  to  Placerville  before  dark ! " 
"  Your  names,  gents."  "Smith,  Jones,  Brown, 
Johnson."  "All  aboard!"  and  off  goes  stage 
No.  1.  "Pile  in,  gents.  Get  down  from  the 
front  seat,  you,  Sir — place  engaged.  All  aboard !" 


DEl'AliTUKE    FROM    FOLSOM. 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


and  off  goes  stage  No.  2.  "  Henness  ?  Placer- 
ville  ?  Dammit,  why  didn't  you  say  so  ?"  "  John- 
son, Brown,  Jones,  Smith."  "  Pitch  in,  Cap — 
all  set!"  and  stage  No.  3  follows  through  the 
dusty  clouds  that  cover  the  road  and  the  hill- 
sides. And  so  on  till  we  are  all  fairly  in  and 
off,  and  looking  back,  with  fervent  thanks  to 
Providence  that  we  are  clear  of  the  smoke  and 
trouble  and  turmoil  of  the  railroad  depot  at 
Folsom. 

It  is  always  pleasant  to  make  a  start ;  yet  if 
any  body  can  say  the 
road  from  Folsom  to 
Placerville  is  an  agree- 
able road  to  travel  in 
the  early  part  of  Octo- 
ber, before  the  autumn 
showers  have  com- 
menced, he  must  be 
fond  of  dust,  and  ruts, 
and  hills,  and  plenty  of 
warm  sunshine.  As  for 
the  dust — whew ! 

With  a  gentle  breeze 
behind ;  the  horses'  ears 
dimly  perceptible  in 
front ;  curling  clouds 
rising  up  at  every  step 
and  imbedding  the  stage 
with  its  sneezing,  gasp- 
ing, suffocating  human 
freight  as  in  a  chaotic 
bank  of  pulverized  earth 
without  top,  bottom,  or 
sides ;  your  face  smeared 
with  red,  yellow,  and 
black  stripes  of  sweat 
and  rnud  ;  your  nostrils 
stuffed  with  a  pasty  con- 
glomerate ;  your  hair  turned  prematurely  gray ; 
your  eyelashes  blinking  with  a  feathery  fringe- 
work  of  native  soil ;  your  lungs  surcharged  with 
gold,  porphyry,  sulphurefs,  and  all  the  indica- 
tions that  predominate  in  a  mineral  region — I 
say,  if  you  can  enjoy  this  sort  of  thing,  you  are 
fit  to  travel  to  Washoe  or  any  other  country. 
You  are  part  and  parcel  of  California,  with  very 
nearly  your  weight  in  gold.  Put  through  the 
hydraulic  process  after  your  arrival  at  Placer- 
ville, and  your  washings  are  worth  $14  per  ounce. 
Pan  you  out,  and  two  dollars  a  pan  would  be  a 
low  estimate  of  your  intrinsic  value.  In  fact  I 
am  told  the  hotel-keepers  are  growing  rich  on 
this  single  source  of  profit.  Each  hotel  keeps  a 
kind  of  sluice  or  washing  arrangement  in  the 
back-room,  through  which  the  travelers  by  stage 
are  immediately  put  on  their  arrival ;  and  judg- 
ing by  the  accumulations  in  the  bottoms  of  the 
basins,  I  should  say  every  man  leaves  behind 
him  pay  dirt  of  a  very  rich  quality.  For  my 
part,  I  paid  my  fare,  and  positively  refused  to 
wash.  Why  should  a  man  impoverish  himself 
in  this  way  for  the  benefit  of  tavern-keepers? 
His  dust  is  worth  as  much  to  himself  as  it  is  to 
any  other  man,  and  he  certainly  has  .,the  best 
claim  to  it. 


m 


KATilEK  DUSTY. 


As  we  heard  the  cry  of 
Washoe  in  early  times,  so  we 
now  heard  the  cry  of  Reese 
River.  Every  body  and  his 
uncle,  cousin,  brother,  and 
son-in-law  was  gone  or  going 
to  Reese.  The  streets  and 
shops  of  Placerville  were 
crowded  with  Reese  River  goods,  Reese  River 
wagons,  Reese  River  croppings,  and  Reese  River 
notices  of  various  kinds.  Nothing  was  dreamed 
of  in  the  philosophy  of  the  busy  multitude  but 
Reese  River. 

It  was  5  o'clock  P.M.,  just  three  hours  after 
the  usual  time,  thanks  to  the  Hog's  Back,  when 
we  took  our  places  on  the  stages,  and  girded  up 
our  loins  for  the  trip  across  the  mountains.  I 
was  the  lucky  recipient  of  an  outside  seat.  The 
seat  of  honor,  by  the  side  of  that  exalted  digni- 
tary the  driver,  was  accorded  me  by  the  "polite 
and  gentlemanly  agent." 

The  driver  was  Charlie.  Of  course  every 
body  knows  Charlie — that  same  Old  Charlie  who 
has  driven  all  over  the  roads  in  California,  and 
never  capsized  any  body  but  himself.  On  that 
occasion  he  broke  several  of  his  ribs,  or  as  he 
expressed  it  to  me,  "Bust  his  sides  in."  I  was 
proud  and  happy  to  sit  by  the  side  of  Charlie — 
especially  as  the  road  was  supposed  to  be  a  little 
undulating  even  by  its  best  friends.  Possibly  I 
may  have  traveled  over  worse  roads  than  the 
first  ten  miles  out  of  Placerville.  If  so,  they 
must  have  been  in  Iceland ;  for  there  are  not 
many  quite  so  bad  on  the  continent  of  North 
America.  I  speak  of  what  the  road  was  at  the 


WASHOE  REVISITED. 


G87 


GOLD  DUST. 


close  of  summer,  cut  up  by  heavy  teams,  a  foot 
deep  with  dust,  and  abounding  in  holes  and  pit- 
falls big  enough  to  swallow  a  thousand  stages 


and  six  thousand  horses  without  inconvenience 
to  itself.  There  are  places,  over  which  we  passed 
after  dark,  where  I  am  sure  the  road  is  three 
miles  wide,  and  every  acre  of  it  a  model  stage- 
trap  ;  where  it  branches  off  over  hills,  and  along 
the  sides  of  hills,  and  into  deep  canons,  and  up 
hills  again;  dark,  dismal  places  in  the  midst  of 
great  forests  of  pine,  where  the  horses  seem  to 
be  eternally  plunging  over  precipices  and  the 
stage  following  them  with  a  crashing  noise,  hor- 
ribly suggestive  of  cracked  skulls  and  broken 
bones.  But  I  had  implicit  confidence  in  Old 
Charlie.  The  way  he  handled  the  reins  and 
peered  through  the  clouds  of  dust  and  volumes 
of  darkness,  and  saw  trees  and  stumps  and 
boulders  of  rock  and  horses'  ears,  when  I  could 
scarcely  see  my  own  hand  before  me,  was  a 
miracle  of  stage-driving.  "Git  aeoup !"  was 
the  warning  cry  of  this  old  stager.  "  Git  alang. 
my  beauties !"  was  the  natural  outpouring  of  the 
poetry  that  filled  his  capacious  soul. 

"  Do  many  people  get  killed  on  this  route?" 
said  I  to  Charlie,  as  we  made  a  sudden  lurch  in 
the  dark  and  bowled  along  the  edge  of  a  fearful 
precipice. 

"Nary  kill  that  I  know  of.  Some  of  the 
drivers  mashes  'em  once  in  a  while,  but  that's 
whisky  or  bad  drivin'.  Last  summer  a  few 
stages  went  over  the  grade,  but  nobody  was  hurt 
bad — only  a  few  legs'n  arms  broken.  Them 
was  opposition  stages.  Pioneer  stages,  as  a 
genrl  thing,  travels  on  the  road.  Git  aeoup ! " 


UENEEAL   6MA6H 


688 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


OLD   CHAKLIE. 


"  Is  it  possible  ?  Why,  I  have  read  horrible 
stories  of  the  people  crushed  to  death  going  over 
these  mountains !" 

"Very  likely — they  kill  'em  quite  lively  on 
the  Henness  route.  Git  alang,  my  beauties ! 
Drivers  only  break  their  legs  a  little  on  this 
route ;  that  is,  some  of  the  opposition  boys  did 
it  last  summer ;  but  our  company's  very  strict ; 
they  won't  keep  drivers,  as  a  genr'l  thing,  that 
gets  drunk  and  mashes  up  stages.  Git  aeoup, 
Jake !  Git  alang,  Mack !  'Twon't  pay ;  'tain't 
a  good  investment  for  man  nor  beast.  A  stage 
is  worth  more'n  two  thousand  dollars,  and  legs 
costs  heavy  besides.  You  Jake,  git !" 

"How  in  the  world  can  you  see  your  way 
through  this  dust?" 

"  Smell  it.  Fact  is,  I've  traveled  over  these 
mountains  so  often  I  can  tell  where  the  road  is 
by  the  sound  of  the  wheels.  When  they  rattle 
I'm  on  hard  ground ;  when  they  don't  rattle  I 
gen'r'lly  look  over  the  side  to  see  where  she's 
agoing." 

"Have  you  any  other  signs?" 

"Backer's  another  sign;  when  I'm  a  little 
skeer'd  I  chaw  more'n  ordinary.  Then  I  know 
the  road's  bad." 


"Don't  you  get  tired  driving  over  the  same 
road  so  often?" 

"Well,  I  do— kalklate  to  quit  the  business 
next  trip.  I'm  getting  well  on  in  years,  you 
see,  and  don't  like  it  so  well  as  I  used  to,  afore 
I  was  busted  in!" 

"  How  long  have  you  driven  stage?" 

"Nigh  on  to  thirty  years,  an'  I'm  no  better 
off  now  than  when  I  commenced.  Pay's  small  ; 
work  heavy;  gettin'  old;  rheumatism  in  the 
bones;  nobody  to  look  out  for  used-up  stage- 
drivers  ;  kick  the  bucket  one  of  these  days,  and 
that's  the  last  of  Old  Charlie." 

"  Why,  you  must  have  made  plenty  of  friends 
during  so  long  a  career  of  staging?" 

"  Oh  yes,  plenty  of  'em  ;  see  'em  to-day,  gone 
to-morrow !  Git  alang !" 

And  so  passed  the  long  hours  of  the  night, 
Charlie  and  I  gossiping  pleasantly  about  the 
risks  and  hardships,  mysteries  and  charms  of 
the  stage-driving  profession. 

All  hail  to  thee,  Old  Charlie !  Never  shall  it 
be  said  that  ingratitude  is  one  of  my  vices. 
Here,  in  the  pages  of  this  magazine,  your  name 
shall  be  rescued  from  oblivion.  Sweet  and  gen- 
tle ladies  shall  pay  the  tribute  of  admiration  to 


WASHOE  REVISITED. 


689 


your  manly  features;  and  honest  men  shall 
award  you  honor,  to  whom  honor  is  due.  For 
in  the  vicissitudes  of  my  career  have  I  not  found 
brave  and  sterling  qualities  in  all  classes  of  men  ; 
heroes  whose  names  are  never  known ;  hearts 
and  souls,  human  affections,  and  the  fear  of  God 
in  the  bodies  of  stage-drivers  ? 

Thus  I  think  and  moralize  as  we  approach  the 
grade.  The  bad  road  is  at  an  end.  We  strike 
in  upon  the  smooth  broad  highway,  and  dash 
onward  with  a  feeling  of  absolute  relief.  The 
horses'  hoofs  clatter  merrily  on  the  hard,  gravel- 
ly earth.  The  tall  pines  form  a  magnificent 
avenue  through  which  the  moon  begins  to  glim- 
mer, making  a  fretwork  of  silvery  light  on  the 
backs  of  our  noble  animals. 

The  approach  to  the  crossing  of  the  American 
River  is  indescribably  grand.  Here  the  grade 
takes  a  downward  plunge,  and  here  the  scenery 
becomes  truly  Alpine.  Formerly  the  descent 
was  made  on  the  right  side  of  the  ridge.  Won- 
derful improvements,  however,  have  taken  place 
in  the  grades  of  this  road  during  the  past  few 
years,  chiefly  owing  to  the  enterprise  of  Mr. 
v  Louis  M'Lean,  President  of  the  Pioneer  Stage 
^Company.  In  1860,  as  already  stated,  I  traveled 
over  this  part  of  the  country  on  foot,  in  common 
with  some  thousands  of  adventurers,  equally  in- 
dependent of  horse-flesh.  I  then  enjoyed  the 
scenery  of  the  American  River,  for  I  saw  it  by 
the  early  morning,  when  the  mountains  were 
decked  in  all  the  glories  of  spring;  when  tor- 
rents of  snow-water  burst  from  every  ravine,  and 
fell  thundering  into  the  depths  below,  and  limpid 
springs  made  a  pleasant  music  over  the  moss- 
covered  rocks  by  the  way-side;  when  the  sun's 
rays  glimmered  through  the  dripping  trees,  and 
the  air  was  fragrant  with  the  odor  of  wild  flow- 
ers. But  I  had  never  till  now  been  impressed 
with  an  adequate  sense  of  its  beauties.  How 
calm  and  still  the  night  was !  how  exquisitely 
balmy  the  air !  how  sublime  the  repose  of  these 
grand  old  mountains!  I  thought  of  all  the 
scenes  I  had  witnessed  in  other  countries,  yet 
could  not  recall  any  thing  to  surpass  this.  There 
is  something  in  the  mystic  lights  and  shades, 
and  the  profound  solemnity  of  the  night,  which 
lends  an  awful  sublimity  to  these  wild  regions. 
The  gigantic  forest  trees  standing  in  bold  out- 
line on  the  opposite  sides  of  the  mountains,  seem 
to  pierce  the  sky  ;  and  the  moonbeams  pouring 
down  into  the  mysterious  abyss  through  which 
the  river  dashes,  fringe  the  tops  of  the  pines,  as 
far  down  as  the  eye  can  reach,  with  a  frost-like 
drapery.  Nothing  can  be  more  thrilling  than 
the  descent  of  the  grade  by  moonlight.  The  | 
road  is  a  magnificent  piece  of  engineering — 
smooth,  broad,  and  beautifully  regular. 

Imagine  yourself  seated  in  front  of  the  stage, 
by  the  side  of  that  genial  old  whipster,  Charlie, 
who  knows  every  foot  of  the  way,  and  upon  whom 
you  can  implicitly  rely  for  the  safety  of  your 
life  and  limbs.  Holding  the  reins  with  a  firm 
hand,  and  casting  a  penetrating  eye  ahead,  he 
cracks  his  whip,  and  away  go  the  horses  with 
inspiring  velocity  —  six  magnificent  chestnuts, 


superbly  adorned  with  flowing  manes  and  tails. 
The  stillness  of  the  night  is  pleasantly  broken 
by  their  measured  tread,  and  the  rattle  of  the 
wheels  over  the  gravel  echoes  through  the  wild 
rifts  and  openings  of  the  canon  like  a  voice  from 
the  civilized  world  telling  of  human  enterprise. 
Down,  and  still  down,  we  plunge  into  the  gloomy 
depths  of  the  abyss ;  the  ghostly  forms  of  trees 
looming  up  on  our  left ;  to  the  right,  rising  far 
beyond  the  range  of  vision,  the  towering  heights 
of  the  Sierras ;  and  ever  and  anon  yawning  gulfs 
in  front  and  bottomless  pits  of  darkness  still 
threatening  to  devour.  The  road  turns  and 
winds  like  a  serpent,  sometimes  apparently  run- 
ning into  a  huge  bank  of  granite  bouldei-s,  then 
whirling  suddenly,  and  plunging  into  a  shimmer- 
ing wilderness  of  rocks  and  trees,  where  destruc- 
tion seems  inevitable.  Yet  onward  dash  the 
horses,  with  an  instinct  so  admirable  in  its  pre- 
cision that  it  seems  for  the  time  superior  to  hu- 
man intelligence.  They  never  swerve  from  the 
track  ;  through  the  fretwork  of  light  and  dark- 
ness they  pursue  their  way  with  unrivaled  ease 
and  grace  ;  sweeping  around  the  narrow  turns  ; 
now  coursing  along  on  the  extreme  edge  of  the 
precipice,  or  closely  hugging  the  upper  bank  as 
the  road  winds  to  the  right  or  the  left;  now 
plunging  down  and  whirling  with  marvelous  sa- 
gacity over  the  narrow  bridges  that  span  the 
ravines,  often  where  there  is  neither  rail  nor  post 
to  mark  the  way,  ever  true  to  the  slightest  touch 
of  the  reins,  and  ever  obedient  to  the  voice  of 
their  driver.  Is  it  a  wonder  that  Old  Charlie 
loves  his  horses  and  talks  of  his  teams  with  a 
kind  of  paternal  aifection — that  he  knows  them 
by  heart,  and  holds  converse  with  them  through 
the  long  watches -of  the  night  as  with  human 
friends  ? 

I  have  attempted  to  give  some  idea  of  the  ro- 
mantic beauties  of  these  mountain  regions  and 
the  peculiar  wildness  of  the  scenery ;  but  it  must 
be  conceded  that  nature  has  not  been  permitted 
to  lie  wholly  undisturbed  in  the  immediate  vicin- 
ity of  the  road.  There  is  probably  not  an  acre 
of  ground,  possessing  a  water  privilege,  on  the 
entire  route  betAveen  Placerville  and  Virginia 
City,  which  has  not  been  taken  up  and  settled 
upon  by  some  enterprising  squatter  or  speculator, 
whose  views  of  the  present  necessities  of  trade 
and  the  future  prosperity  of  Nevada  invest  this 
region  of  country  with  an  extraordinary  value. 
When  I  traveled  over  the  road  in  the  spring  of 
'60  there  were  symptoms  of  rapid  progress. 
Tents  and  shanties  were  springing  up  all  along 
the  way-side  ;  and  if  the  weary  pedestrian  could 
get  nothing  else,  he  could  at  least  always  be 
sure  of  whisky,  even  where  the  houses  had  nei- 
ther walls  nor  roofs.  If  lodgings  were  scarce 
bedfellows  were  plenty ;  if  there  was  trouble  in 
keeping  the  outer  man  warm  there  was  abund- 
ance of  fuel  for  the  inner  man.  For  this  reason, 
perhaps,  it  was  not  an  uncommon  thing  to  see 
the  sturdy  adventurers  who  were  on  their  way 
to  the  silver  regions  quite  elevated  by  the  time 
they  reached  the  summit ;  and  if  ever  they  got 
sober  again,  it  must  have  been  after  they  had 


C90 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


invested  their  last  dollar  in  some  of  those  flour- 
ishing leads  which  prevailed  around  Carson  and 
the  Devil's  Gate. 

The  state  of  things  is  now  very  different. 
Good  and  substantial  taverns,  well  supplied  with 
provisions,  beds,  fleas,  bugs,  etc.,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  essential  article  of  whisky,  are  to  be  met 
with  at  intervals  of  every  two  or  three  miles  all 
along  the  route.  Here  the  stages  stop,  and  here 
the  horses  are  watered  and  changed  ;  and  here 
the  drivers  and  passengers  get  down  and  stretch 
their  legs,  but  as  a  general  thing  they  don't  in- 
dulge so  much  in  water  as  the  horses. 

As  we  approached  Strawberry,  I  am  free  to 
admit  that  I  became  somewhat  nervous.  A  lurk- 
ing suspicion  took  possession  of  me  that  I  was 
recognized  by  the  driver,  Old  Charlie ;  though  I 
took  particular  pains  to  join  with  him  in  abusing 
that  vile  slanderer  Ross  Browne,  whose  Peep  at 
Washoe  had  aroused  the  indignation  of  every 
publican  on  the  route.  Charlie  admitted  that 
he  had  never  read  any  of  this  fellow's  produc- 
tions, but  he  believed  him  to  be  the  Prince  of 
Liars  on  general  principles ;  an  assertion  in  which 
I  heartily  coincided,  with  an  internal  reservation 
that  it  was  strange  how  angry  it  made  people  to 
have  the  truth  told  about  them.  "Lord,  Lord, 
Charlie, "  said  I,  handing  him  a  cigar,  ' '  how 
this  world  is  given  to  lying!"  By  this  time  we 
were  at  Strawberry,  and  I  saw  that  I  had  to  face 
the  music. 

The  story  goes  that  there  was  once  upon  a 
time  a  man  named  Berry,  who  located  a  claim 
in  a  pleasant  little  flat  about  eight  miles  from 
the  summit  of  the  mountain.  Here  he  set  up 
his  shanty,  seeing  with  a  prophetic  eye  that  it 
would  soon  become  an  important  point  for  the 
accommodation  of  travelers  on  the  way  over  to 
Carson.  When  the  people  of  California  were 
seized  with  the  silver  mania,  and  began  to  crowd 
up  the  slopes  of  the  Sierras  with  their  teams  and 
pack-trains,  their  picks,  shovels,  and  blankets, 
Berry's  became  a  great  stopping-place,  and  his 
house,  which  he  speedily  enlarged,  a  famous  re- 
sort for  travelers ;  and  this  Berry  soon  became 
a  very  rich  Berry.  His  dinners  were  excellent  ; 
his  suppers  without  reproach  ;  his  beds  as  good 
as  any  on  the  road ;  his  whisky  as  sure  to  kill  at 
any  given  range  as  the  best  Port  Townsend; 
and  altogether  he  was  a  popular  and  a  flourishing 
Berry.  But  as  teams  crowded  around  his  prem- 
ises and  supplies  of  hay  were  cut  off  by  storms 
and  bad  roads,  he  was  forced  to  offer  straw  to 
his  customers  as  a  substitute  for  the  regular  horse 
and  mule  feed.  Of  course  he  charged  hay  prices, 
for  even  straw  has  a  hay  value  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances. Now  the  teamsters  when  they  got 
straw  in  place  of  hay  waxed  unreasonably  wroth, 
and  called  this  excellent  old  Berry  STRAW-BER- 
RY— a  name  to  which  let  all  homage  be  rendered. 
By  this  honored  name  goes  to  this  day  that  fa- 
mous stopping-place  known  to  the  traveling  pub- 
lic as  Strawberry. 

I  deemed  it  prudent,  however,  not  to  avow 
my  name  on  the  occasion  of  my  present  visit. 
It  was  10  o'clock  when  we  arrived.  Covered 


with  dust ;  beard,  eyebrows,  and  hair  a  motley 
gray;  hat,  coat,  shirt,  trowsers,  and  boots  the 
same  color ;  face  all  striped  and  piebald,  I  was 
effectually  disguised.  If  any  body  was  there 
who  had  ever  seen  me  before  he  could  not  have 
recognized  me  now  with  a  microscope.  I  walked 
all  about  the  old  room  with  the  fire-place — fa- 
miliar, yet  changed — looked  calmly  at  everybody 
about  the  premises,  and  stood  with  my  back  to 
the  five  while  the  'horses  were  being  changed, 
with  a  delightful  consciousness  of  security.  In 
the  darkness  of  night  I  had  escaped  Dirty  Mike, 
and  now,  amidst  the  curious  and  penetrating 
crowd  at  Strawberry,  not  a  soul  knew  me ! 

The  improvements  at  Strawberry  are  not  to 
be  slighted.  A  fine  hotel  now  adjoins  the  old 
building ;  a  telegraph  office  affords  conveniences 
for  stock-jobbing  and  catching  thieves ;  hand- 
some rooms  are  to  be  had  merely  for  the  asking ; 
spring  beds  invite  the  wayfarer  to  repose ;  the 
dining-room,  billiard  saloon,  and  bar  would  do 
credit  to  Virginia  City,  or  any  other  civilized 
community,  where  men  eat,  gamble,  and  drink 
spirituous  liquors ;  the  out-buildings  are  numer- 
ous and  capacious ;  the  stables  fit  for  the  most 
aristocratic  horses  ;  the  hay  no  longer  a  subject 
of  reproach  to  man  nor  beast,  the  straw  as  good 
as  ever  bore  grain — Oh,  Straw-Berry ! 

"  All  aboard!" — a  new  voice,  a  new  face,  and 
a  new  driver.  I  bade  good-by  to  Charlie,  and 
hoped  we  might  meet  again  in  the  next  world, 
if  not  in  this.  Once  more  we  are  on  our  way. 
The  road  over  the  mountain  from  Strawberry 
has  been  greatly  improved.  It  is  now  a  mag- 
nificent highway.  Formerly  the  ascent  to  the 
summit  was  difficult  and  dangerous.  The  rise 
is  now  so  beautifully  graded  as  to  be  scarcely 
appreciable.  Our  horses  trotted  along  briskly 
nearly  the  whole  way.  The  scenery  becomes 
weird  and  stern  as  we  approach  the  highest  al- 
titude of  the  Sierras.  The  trees  are  scraggy ; 
the  earth  is  barren  and  of  a  whitish  cast ;  great 
boulders  of  rock  rear  their  hoary  crests  high  over 
the  way-side,  threatening  to  topple  over  and  crush 
all  beneath  them.  Sometimes  huge  masses  of 
rock  seem  detached  from  the  main  body  of  the 
slope  or  cliff  around  which  the  road  winds,  and 
balanced  on  a  mere  point — thousands  of  tons  of 
solid  stone,  ready  apparently  at  the  slightest  vi- 
bration of  the  earth  or  puff  of  wind  to  come 
crashing  down  upon  the  stage.  At  some  of 
these  points  I  deeply  sympathized  with  a  gen- 
tleman from  San  Francisco,  of  whom  the  driver 
spoke  in  terms  of  ridicule. 

"He  was  so  'fraid  them  rocks  'ud  be  shook 
loose  and  fall  on  his  head,  he  kept  a  dodgin' 
'em  all  the  time.  His  hair  stood  right  up  like 
a  hog's  brussels.  Every  now  and  then  he  was 
peerin'  around  for  a  soft  spot  of  road  to  jump 
out  on ;  an'  when  he  seed  he  couldn't  find  it, 
he  held  on  to  the  railin'  with  both  hands  till  his 
fingers  wos  all  blistered.  'D-d-driver,'  sez 
he,  'd'ye  think  there's  any  danger?'  'Dan- 
ger!' sez  I — 'ov  course  there's  danger!  Sup- 
posing that  'ere  rock  was  shook  loose  by  the 
rattlin'  ov  this  'ere  stage — what  d'ye  think  'ud 


\VASHOE  REVISITED. 


691 


be    the    consequences  ?' 

'I  r-r-really  can't  say,' 

sez  he  ;  '  p-p-possibly  it 

\voukl  crush  the  stage!' 

1  No, '  sez  I,  *  it  wouldn't 

crush  it ;  but  it  'ud  make 

sich  a  d — d  squash  of 

it   that    bones  wouldn't 

count.  Your  bones  an' 
my  bones,  an'  the  bones 
ov  three  passengers  above 
an'  four  behind  an'  nine 
down  below,  'ud  be  all 
squashed,  an'  the  verdic 
of  Corners  Inquest  'ud 
be — 'Eighteen  men,  six 
horses,  an'  a  Pioneer 
Stage  squashed  by  the 
above  stone !'  '  D-d-driv- 
er,' sez  he  —  his  teeth 
a-chatterin'  like  a  box 
o'  dice — '  is  that  so  ?' 
'You  bet,'  sez  I,  'the 
last  time  I  see  it  done, 
three  ladies  an'  ten  gents 
from  Frisco  was  squash- 
ed.' 'Good  gracious!' 
sez  he,  turnin'  as  white 
as  a  sheet,  '  let  me  down 
at  the  next  station!' 
And  sure  'miff  he  got 

down  at  the  next  station  and  made  tracks  for 
Frisco.  He  changed  his  base — he  did.  Git 
aeoup !" 

"Is  that  true,  driver?" 
"True?" — and  the  indignant  look  with  which 
my  friend  of  the  whip  resented  the  question  sat- 
isfied me  that  it  would  not  be  prudent  to  push 
my  doubts  too  far— so  I  qualified  the  inquiry — 
"Is  it  on  the  square,  I  mean ?" 

"Stranger,"  said  he,  solemnly,  "I  don't 
make  a  habit  o'  lyin' ;  when  I  lie  I  kin  lie  as 
good  as  any  body ;  but  gen'rally  speakiu'  I'm 
on  the  square." 

"  Of  course — that's  all  right ;  that's  just  what 
I  mean ;  you  don't  usually  steer  clear  of  facts 
when  the  'truth  is  strange — stranger  than  fic- 
tion.'    Won't  you  take  a  cigar,  driver?" 
"Don't  care  if  I  do." 

And  thus  the  dawning  difficulty  was  amica- 
bly adjusted. 

Owing  to  our  late  start  we  did  not  reach  the 
summit  before  two  o'clock.  The  air  at  this  ele- 
vation was  sharp,  though  not  unpleasantly  so. 
The  altitude  is  estimated  at  eight  thousand  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Frost  was  on  the 
ground,  and  there  was  promise  of  colder  nights 
soon  to  come.  The  moon,  which  had  so  kindly 
befriended  us  during  the  greater  part  of  our 
journey  to  this  point,  was  still  shining  brightly, 
shedding  its  silvery  rays  over  the  wilderness  of 
mountains  that  loomed  up  around  us.  The 
view  over  Lake  Valley  was  superb.  I  have 
seen  nothing  to  surpass  it  in  Switzerland  or 
Norway.  Perhaps  the  finest  feature  of  the 
whole  journey  is  the  descent  of  the  new  grade. 


DANGEROUS  BOULDERS. 

For  a  distance  of  five  or  six  miles  the  road 
winds  around  the  sides  of  the  mountains,  cross- 
ing ravines  and  doubling  up   occasionally  in 
turns  so  rapid  that  the  stage  seems  to  run  one 
way  and  the  horses  another.     Some  of  these 
whirling  turns  reminded  me  of  the  flight  of  an 
Australian  bomerang.    As  we  strike  the  straight 
road  again  the  driver  gives  rein  to  our  spirited 
animals ;    crack  goes  the  whip,  and  down  we 
plunge  over  narrow  bridges,  along  the  edges  of 
terrific  precipices  a  thousand  feet  deep,  through 
dark  forests  of  pine  and  along  frowning  banks 
of  granite,  hewn  from  the   solid  bed  of  the 
mountain.     Despite  the  ridiculous  stories  we 
had  heard  of  accidents  and  alarms,  every  pas- 
senger with  a  nervous  system  clings  tenaciously 
to  the  stage-fixtures,  as  if  determined  to  follow 
the  stage  wherever  it  might  go,  and  there  were 
moments  when  we  even  held  our  breath  to  keep 
up  a  balance.     I  flatter  myself  I  saved  the  lives 
of  the  whole  party  several  times  by  hoisting  at 
the  lee  rail,  and  holding  my  breath  hard,  while 
I  leaned  over  on  the  weather  side.     It  is  not 
comfortable  to  look  down  when  you  are  flying 
along  at  the  rate  of  ten  miles  an  hour  and  see 
no  bottom  short  of  a  thousand  or  fifteen  hun- 
dred feet.     Yet  there  is  a  charm  in  this  dashing, 
reckless  journey  by  moonlight.     The  danger  is 
just  sufficient  to  give  it  a  relish.     The  excite- 
ment keeps  the  blood  warm  ;  the  fresh  mount- 
ain air  invigorates  and  inspires  every  faculty; 
the  spirit  rises  with  the  rapidity  of  the  motion, 
and  before  you  get  half-way  to  the  valley  you 
find  yourself  in  a  condition  to  sing,  shout,  or 
dance.     The  driver,  by  whose  side  I  had  the 


692 


HAMPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


SCENE  IN   THE   SIEKRA   NEVADA. 


honor  to  sit,  had  evidently  cultivated  his  voice 
for  singing ;  but  unfortunately  he  knew  but  one 
song — and  of  that  he  remembered  but  one  line — 

"When  this  cruel  war  is  over!" 
which  he  sang  straight  ahead  for  three  hours, 
commencing  at  the  top  of  the  grade  and  ending 
only  when  relieved  by  a  new  driver.  Indeed, 
I  am  not  sure  that  he  ended  then,  for  the  last  I 
heard  of  him  he  was  leaning  against  a  post  at 
the  station-house,  humming  over  to  himself — 

"When  this  cruel  war  is  over  I" 
and  it  is  not  impossible  he  may  be  at  it  yet. 
The  only  variety  I  noticed  during  the  journey 
was  in  the  form  of  an  interlude  as  he  spoke  to 
the  horses,  "  Git  aeoup,  Bummers !  Git  alang, 
Rebs! 

"When  this— and  so  forth;  now  git!" 

The  song  is  not  bad  when  you  get  the  whole 
of  it,  with  a  strong  chorus ;  but  a  single  line  of 
it  repeated  for  a  distance  of  twenty-five  miles 
without  a  chorus  becomes  monotonous. 

Whether  the  monotony  of  the  poetry  had  a 
soporific  tendency,  or  loss  of  rest  produced  a 
heaviness  in  the  head,  I  don't  know ;  but  after 
the  novelty  of  our  fiiyht  down  the  grade  had 


[  worn  away  somewhat,  I  now  and  then  detected 
myself  in  the  act  of  plunging  overboard  on  the 
backs  of  the  horses,  or  bobbing  into  some  fright- 
ful abyss.  Once  I  actually  thought  I  was  gone, 
and  received  such  a  shock  when  I  discovered 
that  I  had  only  been  asleep,  and  was  still  on 
hand,  as  to  keep  me  wide  awake  during  the  rest 
of  the  way  to  Lake  Tahoe. 

This  beautiful  lake  was  originally  named 
Bigler,  after  a  distinguished  politician,  who 
held  the  position  of  Governor  of  California — 
John  Bigler.  It  was  so  named  by  a  gentleman 
who  had  a  high  admiration  for  the  name  of 
Bigler.  The  beauty  of  the  scenery,  the  crystal 
clearness  of  the  water,  the  inspiring  purity  of 
the  atmosphere  filled  the  soul  of  Bigler's  friend 
with  poetry,  and  he  called  this  lovely  spot  Big- 
ler. It  was  a  just  tribute  to  the  popularity 
of  the  Governor  among  his  friends ;  but  no 
governor  on  earth  can  enjoy  every  man's  friend- 
ship. Bigler  had  enemies  like  other  governors 
— some  because  they  wanted  office  and  couldn't 
get  it ;  others  because  they  wanted  a  contract 
and  couldn't  get  it ;  and  many  because  they 
wanted  to  be  governor  themselves.  When  this 


WAS  HOE  REVISITED. 


C93 


distinguished  gentleman  ceased  to  be  Governor 
of  California  he  was  made  a  Minister  to  South 
America.  It  was  then  discovered  by  both 
friends  and  enemies  that  the  name  was  inap- 
propriate and  lacked  euphony ;  friends  had  no- 
thing more  to  hope ;  enemies  nothing  more  to 
fear.  Who  the  deuce  is  John  Bigler,  said  they, 
that  the  finest  lake  in  California  should  be  called 
after  him?  Let  us  blot  his  ugly  name  off  the 
map  and  call  this  beautiful  sheet  of  water  Lake 
Latham  or  Lake  Downey.  But  here  com- 
menced a  squabble  between  the  friends  of  these 
eminent  gentlemen  relative  to  their  respective 
claims.  Latham,  it  was  true,  had  served  with 
honor  in  the  Custom-house — had  held  the  Gu- 
bernatorial chair  for  a  few  weeks,  and  subse- 
quently had  become  United  States  Senator. 
But  then  Downey  had  vetoed  the  Bulkhead  bill. 
Pending  this  difficulty,  a  hint  from  some  obscure 
source  came  very  near  resulting  in  the  selection 
of  a  name  that  would  doubtless  have  afforded 
general  satisfaction,  since  it  could  be  claimed 
by  a  great  many  people  throughout  the  State — 
the  name  of  Brown.  It  was  brief,  pointed,  and 
popular  —  Lake  Brown!  But  what  Brown? 
There  were  thirty-six  Browns  in  the  Peniten- 
tiary, besides  several  more  who  ought  to  be 
there ;  and  at  least  forty-four  Browns  were  can- 
didates for  the  Legislature  or  inmates  of  the 
Lunatic  Asylum ;  so  that  it  was  difficult  to  see 
what  Brown  would  be  specially  benefited  by  the 
compliment.  The  name  itself  scarcely  present- 
ed sufficient  claims  over  all  other  names  to  be 
selected  merely  on  account  of  its  euphony.  So 
Brown  was  dropped ;  and  between  Latham  and 
Downey  it  was  impossible  to  come  to  an  equita- 
ble decision.  The  name  of  Bigler  remained  un- 
molested for  several  years  longer.  In  due  time, 
when  Latham  and  Downey  were  both  thrown 
overboard,  the  discussion  of  the  question  was 
renewed  —  every  prominent  man  in  the  State 
claiming  that  the  lake  should  be  named  after 
himself.  Finally,  as  popular  sentiment  could 
not  fix  upon  the  name  of  any  white  man,  it 
gradually  settled  down  in  favor  of  the  supposed 
Indian  name — Tahoe — which  was  the  first  word 
spoken  to  the  discoverer  by  a  solitary  digger, 
whom  he  encountered  upon  its  shores.  "Ta- 
hoe!" cried  the  digger;  and  it  was  at  once  as- 
sumed that  "Tahoe"  meant  "Big  Water;"  but 
I  am  assured  by  an  old  settler  that  "Tahoe" 
means  "Strong  Water"  —  in  other  words, 
"Whisky" — so  that  this  magnificent  lake,  for- 
merly called  Bigler,  is  now  literally  "Lake 
Whisky!" 

Within  the  past  two  years  the  people  of  Cali- 
fornia and  Washoe  have  begun  to  discover  the 
beauties  of  this  charming  region,  and  its  rare 
advantages  as  a  place  of  summer  resort.  Situ- 
ated in  the  bosom  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  mount- 
ains, 6000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  with 
an  atmosphere  of  wonderful  purity ;  abounding 
in  game ;  convenient  of  access,  and  possessing 
all  the  attractions  of  retirement  from  the  busy 
world,  amidst  scenery  unrivaled  for  its  romantic 
beauties,  there  can  be  no  doubt  it  will  soon  be- 


come the  grand  central  point  of  pleasure  and 
recreation  for  the  people  of  the  Pacific  Coast. 
The  water  of  the  lake  is  singularly  clear  and 
blue,  and  during  the  warmest  months  is  so  cool 
as  to  render  bathing  rather  a  lively  and  stimu- 
lating exercise.  It  abounds  in  the  finest  trout, 
which  supply  the  markets  of  Carson  and  Vir- 
ginia City,  and  occasionally  furnish  a  rich  treat 
to  the  epicures  of  San  Francisco.  Fishermen 
are  busily  occupied  with  their  nets  at  intervals 
along  its  shores,  greatly  to  the  detriment  of  gen- 
tlemen who  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  Izaac  Wal- 
ton. An  excellent  hotel,  called  the  Lake  House, 
has  been  established  at  a  beautiful  and  pictur- 
esque point  on  the  right  shore  (going  toward 
Virginia),  where  good  accommodations  and  "all 
the  luxuries  of  the  season"  can  now  be  had. 
Two  enterprising  Americans,  Messrs.  Dean  and 
Martin,  have  recently  purchased  the  premises, 
with  a  view  of  getting  up  a  splendid  watering- 
place  in  the  Atlantic  style.  Already  they  have 
bath-houses,  pleasure-boats,  riding  horses,  bil- 
liard tables,  bowling-alleys,  and  all  the  conven- 
iencies  for  health  and  recreation.  At  the  time 
of  my  visit  the  house  was  in  process  of  enlarge- 
ment. Martin  was  one  of  my  fellow-pedestri- 
ans on  my  first  trip  across  the  mountains  to 
Washoe,  and  I  can  safely  say  it  would  give  me 
great  pleasure  to  hear  of  his  success  in  this  en- 
terprise. He  is  a  clever,  genial  fellow,  a  first- 
rate  traveling  companion,  and  an  upright,  hon- 
est man.  To  dyspeptics,  consumptives,  and 
broken-down  stock-brokers  I  have  a  word  of  ad- 
vice to  offer :  If  you  want  your  digestive  appa- 
ratus put  in  complete  order,  so  that  brickbats 
will  stick  to  your  ribs  without  inconvenience, 
spend  a  month  with  my  friend  Martin  ;  if  your 
bronchial  tubes  distress  you,  swallow  a  few  thou- 
sand gallons  of  Lake  Tahoe  air,  and  you  can 
blow  bellows  blasts  from  your  lungs  forever  aft- 
er ;  if  your  nervous  system  is  deranged  by  bad 
speculations  in  stocks,  bowl  nine-pins  and  row 
one  of  Martin's  boats  for  six  weeks,  and  I  ven- 
ture to  affirm  stocks  will  rise  a  thousand  per 
cent.  It  is  all  a  matter  of  health  in  the  long- 
run  ;  with  good  digestion  and  a  sound  nervous 
system  there  is  no  trouble  in  life  ;  and  for  these 
ends  there  is  no  place  like  Tahoe. 

From  the  first  hour  after  leaving  Placerville 
we  passed  along  the  road-side  numerous  teams 
and  trains  of  wagons,  most  of  which  were  group- 
ed together  under  the  trees,  or  in  front  of  the 
station-houses,  in  the  old-fashioned  camp  style. 
I  commenced  a  rough  calculation  of  the  num- 
ber of  wagons,  but  soon  gave  it  up  as  a  hopeless 
task.  It  seemed  to  me  that  there  were  enough 
i  of  them,  big  and  little,  to  reach  all  the  way  over 
the  mountain.  At  the  least  calculation  we  must 
have  passed  two  or  three  hundred.  Every  wag- 
on was  heavily  freighted — some  with  merchan- 
dise, others  with  iron  castings  for  the  mills,  and 
quite  a  goodly  number  with  families,  fruit,  whis- 
ky, and  furniture.  There  were  horse-teams, 
and  mule-teams,  and  ox-teams.  I  never  before 
saw  so  many  teams  on  one  road.  No  wonder 
the  dust  was  pretty  deep  ! 


G94 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


"Are  you  going  back  to  the  States  ?"  said  I, 
to  a  Pike  County  man,  with  a  wagon-load  of 
wife  and  children,  beds,  chairs,  and  cooking 
utensils.  "No,  Sir,"  said  he,  turning  the  quid 
in  his  leathery  jaw,  "you  bet  I  ain't!  I'm 
bound  for  Reese  !  After  I  make  my  pile  thar,  a 
keeping  of  a  tavern,  I'll  steer  for  Californy  agin 
— it's  good  enough  a  country  for  me."  "  Why 
did  you  leave  it  ?"  I  asked.  "  Wa'al,"  said  the 
poor  fellow,  wiping  the  dust  from  his  face  with 
the  back  of  his  hand,  "  that's  more'n  I  know. 
'Twarn't  my  fault.  The  old  'oman  was  high  for 
feet.  She  said  we  were  fools  for  a  tinkerin'  on 
our  little  farm  down  thar,  when  every  body  was 
makin'  fortunes  in  Reese.  She's  tolerable  peert 
— the  old  'oman  is.  Oh,  she's  on  it,  you  bet ! " 
"Well,  I  wish  you  luck!"  "Thank  yer," 
drawled  Pike ;  ' '  what  mout  yer  name  be,  stran- 
ger ?"  "  My  name  ? — ahem— is — John. "  The 
man  looked  hard  at  me ;  turned  the  quid  once 
more  in  his  leathery  jaw ;  squirted  out  a  copious 
stream  of  juice,  and,  without  changing  in  the 
slightest  degree  the  gravity  of  his  countenance, 
said,  "  Mine's  Job  ;"  and  then  went  to  work  un- 
hitching his  horses.  This  was  the  last  I  saw  of  Job. 


The  camp  scenes 
along  the  way-side  were 
lively  and  picturesque. 
I  enjoyed  them  with  a 
peculiar  zest  after  three 
years  of  travel  through 
the  deserts  of  civiliza- 
tion in  Europe.  Here 
was  life  reduced  to  its 
primary  elements-*  here 
were  accommodations 
cheap,  roomy,  and  gor- 
geously furnished ;  here 
was  comfort  fit  for  poet, 
artist,  or  any  other  man 
of  a  naturally  sound  and 
barbarous  taste ;  here 
were  food  and  fire  with- 
out stint,  and  fresh  air 
to  an  unlimited  ex- 
tent ;  and  holes  enough 
through  the  tops  of  the 
trees  to  let  the  smoke 
out ;  and  neither  com- 
missioners nor  waiters 
to  stand  behind  and  ad- 
mire your  style  of  eat- 
ing. Who  is  there  so 
depraved  as  not  to  yearn 
for  the  heavenly  joys  of 
a  camp-life  in  the  wil- 
derness ?  Just  take  a 
side-peep  at  that  mer- 
ry group  of  teamsters  I 
Uncouth  and  unsenti- 
mental they  may  be ; 
tired  and  hungry  after 
their  hard  day's  work 
they  doubtless  are  ;  but 
did  you  ever  see  a  hap- 
pier looking  set  of  A'aga- 

bonds  ?  Their  faces,  despite  the  dust  and  grime 
that  besmear  them,  absolutely  shine  in  the  cheery 
light  of  the  big  log  fire ;  they  sniff  the  steaming 
stew  that  simmers  in  the  pot  with  sympathetic 
unction ;  they  sit  and  loll  upon  their  mother- 
earth  in  exquisite  unconsciousness  of  dirt ;  they 
spin  their  yarns  of  the  day's  adventures  with 
many  a  merry  burst  of  laughter ;  and  now,  as 
they  fall  to  work  and  devour  the  savory  mess 
before  them,  what  need  have  they  for  dinner- 
pills?  Hunger  is  their  sauce — fresh  air  and 
exercise  their  medicine.  Oh,  the  jolly  rascals! 
How  I  envy  them  their  camp  life ! 

On  second  thoughts  I  don't  know  that  they 
are  to  be  envied  in  every  particular.  As  to  the 
daily  part  of  their  occupation — driving  ox  and 
mule  teams  over  the  Sierras;  swallowing  dust 
and  alkali  on  the  plains ;  pushing,  pulling, 
sweating,  and  swearing  at  their  stubborn  ani- 
mals, and  navigating  their  heavy  wagons  over 
bad  roads  from  one  month's  end  to  another — I 
can't  conscientiously  envy  them.  Sooner  than 
follow  mule  or  ox  driving  as  a  profession,  I 
think  I'd  profess  politics  for  a  living — which  I 
consider  the  last  resort  of  a  worthless  man. 


WASHOE  REVISITED. 


Yet  I  must  confess 
the  trip  to  Washoe  has, 
to  me  at  least,  lost 
much  of  its  original 
charm.  No  longer  is 
the  way  variegated  by 
long  strings  of  pedes- 
trians, carrying  their 
picks,  shovels,  and 
blankets  upon  their 
backs;  no  longer  are 
the  stopping -places 
crowded  every  night 
with  two  or  three  hun- 
dred millionaires  re- 
joicing in  empty  pock- 
ets and  brimming 
heads ;  no  longer  are 
the  wild  mountain  pass- 
es enlivened  by  gro- 
tesque scenes  of  sad- 
dle-trains and  passen- 
gers struggling  through 
the  mud  and  snow  ;  it 
is  all  now  a  regular  and 
well-established  line  of 
travel— too  civilized  to 
be  interesting  in  any 
great  degree,  and  too 
convenient  to  admit  of 
those  charming  discom- 
forts which  formerly 
afforded  us  so  much 
amusement.  The  busi- 
ness man  who  now 
leaves  San  Francisco 
at  4  P.M.  is  deposited 
at  Virginia  City  by  10 
o'clock  the  next  night 
— just  thirty-six  hours' 

traveling  time.  Fancy  how  the  emigrants  who 
crossed  these  mountains  prior  to  1860  would 
have  stared  at  the  bare  suggestion  of  such  a  feat 
as  this !  If  we  are  behind  the  times  in  railroads, 
it  is  certain  there  is  no  such  country  in  the  world 
for  feats  of  horse-flesh  as  California.  The  length 
of  our  stage-routes,  the  rapidity  with  which  we 
travel  on  them,  and  the  facilities  afforded  by  our 
expresses,  would  astonish  the  humdrum  people 
of  the  Atlantic  States,  if  they  had  the  faintest 
idea  of  the  difficulties  to  be  overcome  in  carry- 
ing such  enterprises  into  effect  in  a  wild  coun- 
try like  ours. 

A  new  road  now  winds  along  the  shores  of 
Lake  Tahoe.  This  part  of  the  trip  will  com- 
pare favorably  with  a  journey  along  the  shores 
of  Como.  At  the  Point  of  Rocks  the  scene  is 
equal  to  any  thing  of  the  kind  to  be  found  in 
Europe.  The  road  is  cut  through  the  brow  of 
the  cliff,  and  for  a  distance  of  several  hundred 
feet  is  supported  by  massive  timbers.  To  the 
left  the  clear  blue  waters  of  the  lake  glimmer 
through  forests  of  towering  pine  ;  to  the  right 
is  a  colossal  tower  of  rocks,  presenting  a  front 
like  some  grand  old  fortress  built  by  an  antedi- 
luvian race  of  giants.  A  rough  and  very  hasty 


POINT  OF   ROCKS,   LAKE   TAIIOE. 


sketch  was  all  I  could  get  of  this  remarkable 
point. 

Leaving  the  lake  at  the  Glenbrook  Station, 
we  begin  to  ascend  the  last  of  the  Sierra  Ne- 
vada "  divides,"  and,  after  a  heavy  pull  and  long 
descent,  enjoy  a  fine  view  of  the  pretty  little 
town  of  Carson.  An  hour  more,  and  we  are 
safely  landed  at  the  Express  office  of  Wells, 
Fargo,  and  Co.,  from  which  point  we  can  diverge 
to  any  number  of  bad  hotels.  By  selecting  the 
worst  you  will  possibly  not  be  disappointed. 

Carson  City  has  enjoyed  a  very  wholesome 
kind  of  prosperity  since  my  first  visit,  if  I  might 
be  allowed  to  judge  by  a  casual  glance  at  the 
new  buildings  around  the  plaza  and  the  many 
pleasant  residences  in  the  suburbs.  The  ple- 
thoric condition  of  the  stock  market  in  San 
Francisco,  and  the  fact  that  capital  had  been 
pouring  through  the  various  passes  of  the  Sier- 
ras into  Washoe,  had  led  me  to  expect  that 
wonderful  improvements  must  be  the  result. 
Nor  was  I  disappointed.  The  number  of  drink- 
ing saloons  in  Carson  City,  and  in  fact  all  along 
the  route,  manifested  in  a  remarkable  degree 
the  rapid  progress  of  civilization.  The  splendid 
stone  Penitentiary,  situated  a  couple  of  miles 


696 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


from  Carson,  presented  another  striking  evidence 

of  moral  advancement.     But [Here  a 

page  or  two  of  manuscript  is  wanting,  which  ap- 
parently related  to  Carson  City. — EDITOR.]  In 
my  next  paper  I  shall  speak  of  Virginia  City, 


and  of  my  third  and  last  visit  there  in  August, 
1864,  together  with  an  unvarnished  account  of 
my  reception  by  the  citizens ;  and  furthermore, 
of  my  own  most  disastrous  experiences  as  a  lec- 
turer in  that  region. 


STATION  ON  THE  WASHOE  KOAD. 


CHILDLESS. 

HE  is  dead,  and  in  his  grave,  And  we  returned ;  in  his  old  place 

In  yonder  town,  where  wind  and  wave —   Not  meeting  with  him,  face  to  face, 
So  must  I — forever  rave.  I  cease  to  love  the  living  race. 


I  saw  his  coffin  sliding  down 
The  yellow  sand  in  yonder  town, 
Then  I  felt  my  childless  crown. 

One  morn  I  kissed  him  in  his  bed; 

A  moment  after,  this  was  said, 

"  Your  child  is  dying — he  is  dead !" 

Some  one  watched  the  crowded  way, 
Tor  him  who  left  his  boy  that  day, 
Saying,  "Love,  I  will  not  stay." 

What  misery  to  see  him  fall 
Beside  that  bed,  and  hear  him  call 
The  darling  dead  his  all  in  all! 

The  boy  was  ready  for  his  rest, 
Flowers  in  his  hair,  and  on  his  breast 
His  little  hands  together  pressed. 

By  night  we  sailed  across  the  sea, 
So  floating  from  the  world  to  be, 
Apart  from  human  speech,  we  three. 

The  blue  sea  sang,  the  full  moon  spread 
Her  glory  with  the  sunset-red ; 
But  one  of  us  lay  midships  dead! 


But  somewhere,  just  beyond  my  sight, 
He  is;  between  us  a  strange  light 
Trembles,  and  hides  him  day  and  night. 

Mothers,  who  mourn  alone  to-day, 
You  understand  me  when  I  say 
I  do  not  weep,  I  do  not  pray. 

And  when  about  my  work  I  go — 
Your  woman's  work — I  do  not  show 
The  occupation  I  bestow 

On  him ;  I  live  the  precious  days 
He  lived,  conning  his  pretty  ways, 
And  give  him  late,  remorseful  praise. 

I  seek  my  punishment  again ; 
I  love  to  bear  the  cruel  pain, 
Which  makes  me  feel  both  loss  and  gain. 

To  stare  upon  that  sacred  store, 

His  books,  his  toys,  the  clothes  he  wore, 

And  mutter,  "Could  he  come  once  more! 

Then  take  from  me  my  simple  verse, 
Rambling,  perhaps,  as  I  rehearse 
This  grief— your  and  my  universe. 


Sh    %: 


No.  CLXXXI. 

JUNE,  1865. 


PUBLISHED   BY 

HARPER    &  BROTHERS 

FRANKLIN  SQUARE,  NEW  YORK. 


